A Trip to the Dentist
by Feddlefew
Summary: A man tells of his encounter with our favorite crazy dentist, Dr. Loboto. One Shot.


AN: This has been sitting around my computer for awhile, so I finished it while waiting for my beta to get back to me with the corrections for the next chapter of Sometimes You're Right. It takes place in the same universe, too. This is mostly written in a slightly different stile than I normally write in, but I think it turned out well.

As always, if spelling errors are spotted, please let me know.

_)(_

[The following is an excerpt from the transcript of the 3/9/2006 VoPS Meeting to be presented as evidence to The Psychonaut head tribunal by VoPS advocates.]

"Hello, VoPS. My name is Matthew Goodwill. I am a 20 year old student at Landersdale Technical Institute. I'd like to tell the story of how I ended up needing to come here every Thursday evening."

[Someone in the audience shouts 'You can do it Matt!']

"Er... Hi Bill, glad to see you could make it today.

So anyway, um, like I was saying....

It was about six months ago, in March. I was working on getting my degree in computer sciences. I still am. I live on campus, and between text books and food and my ex-girlfriend, I barley had any money left over from my job at Super Food Mart. To give you an idea of how broke I was, I thought splurging was eating one of those one dollar microwavable noodle bowls instead of a thirty-three cent cup o' noodles. I hadn't bought myself a new outfit or gone out to eat in months.

So, one day I woke up with a killer tooth ache. Like, a so horrible I wanted to die kind of deal. So, called what I thought was the only local dentist for and made an appointment. Thankfully, my insurance covers one emergency dental trip per year. So I went to the dentist and, after a whole lot of x-rays, they told me that I need to have a root canal done.

My insurance didn't cover that, and I really couldn't afford to pay out of pocket. But my friend recommended me to this guy who he said would do it cheap. He promised me that this guy did a good job and, unlike the local mob doctor, had sterile equipment. He gave me a phone number to call.

I probably should have known something was up. I mean, all I got was a recording, which was kinda creepy, now that I think about it, when I called listing prices and telling me to leave my name and phone number in an old hollow stump. But I was desperate, and it was only going to cost me a hundred bucks.

At lest, that was all I thought it was going to cost me.

So, about a day after I left my phone number in the stump, I got a call telling me to be at some house out in the woods by noon the next day. The person on the other end gave me directions, too. Good thing, otherwise I would never have found the place.

I got up early. It was a Saturday, and I didn't have any classes. I had my friend drop me off at the start of this trail that went way up into the woods. I walked for a mile, maybe two, before I came across this little clearing. There was this old house, you know, like the kind which the old lady who you though was a witch when you were a kid lived in? It wasn't run down, but it still had same creepy vibe.

The steps creaked loudly when I walked up to the door. I don't know why I remember that so clearly. There was one of those old lion-head door knocker things instead of a door bell. Made the loudest banging noise I've ever heard when I used it. This tiny little ugly guy answered the door, and he had the biggest forehead I've ever seen. He took me into this little waiting area. It had a few chairs, a hideous blue couch, and a magazine rack. The guy gave me a copy of the sports illustrated issue, and said 'I'm afraid that's as close to Playboy as you're going to get, Mr. Goodwill.' sarcastically before telling me that the doctor would be ready for me soon. I recognized his voice as the one I heard on the other end of the phone. He left, so I sat down on the couch, which, seriously, was the ugliest piece of furniture I've ever seen in my life, and started reading.

After what felt like forever, I heard someone call my name. When I saw who it was, I actually fell off the couch. The man had frickin' robot eyes and this hand-claw thing which looked like he could tear me to shreds with! He wearing a lab coat and a paper hat thing that looked like a shower cap, and had one of those paper masks hanging down around his neck. He smiled at me with a smile that could give the Cheshire Cat a run for its money.

At that point, I probably should have made a run for it. The idea crossed my mind several times as I was lead down the hall, while the man, who I had realized was my dentist, cheerfully describing the procedure in gruesome detail. I had the feeling that I wasn't going to get very far if I ran, even though the guy had a bad limp. He took me into this dental office. It looked pretty normal, but then I noticed that the chair had straps. While the cyborg-dentist had turned his back to me and was digging around in a drawer, I started to edge my way towards the exit.

Then he told me to sit in the chair.

It wasn't like anything I'd ever heard before in my life. His voice didn't change, he wasn't looking at me, he didn't say it louder or anything. But, their was, like, _power _behind it, and I just wanted to do whatever he told me to.

I climbed into the chair. I was still kind of nervous, but he brought out the laughing gas, and, man, that stuff calms you down. So, while I was just chilling out and waiting for him to sick me with the Novocain, he walks behind me and ducks under the chair. I thought he was just adjusting it.

Suddenly, he's got one of the straps around my chest and was pulling it tight. My arms were quickly strapped to the arm rests, and then my feet where restrained too. He apologized, telling me that it had been awhile since he'd 'done a root canal without anesthetic'. He turns off the gas, then goes back to digging around in the drawers, leaving me to struggle against my bonds. When he comes back, he's got a tray full of really nasty looking tools.

I'm totally panicking by now, and he's obviously enjoying every minute of it. He puts this thing in my mouth to hold it open, and, again, with the same weird voice thing, tells me that I can't tell anyone about this- but I did eventually manage to break whatever spell he put one me, but it took a couple months of therapy and hypnosis. Otherwise I wouldn't be telling this story right now.

Then he started drilling. The laughing gas had completely worn off, and I was in so much pain! I started screaming. He laughed at me and told me to save my breath for the next step. I thought back to when he had been describing the root canal surgery. To my horror, I realized I knew what was coming next.

The dentist, who was batshit insane, might I add, stopped drilling and cracked a few jokes about brains for some reason. Namely taking mine out. It really freaked me out. I mean, taking out my brain? That would kill me! I tried to say something with that expander thing in my mouth, but he just shushed me and started drilling again. When he had finished, he took out a long needle thing. I started screaming as loud as I could.

He stuck it into the hole he made in my tooth. It was probably the most painful thing I had ever experienced in my life. He started twisting it and twisting it. Then, he jerked the needle back all of the sudden, and there was this little stringy red thing hanging off of it, which I realized was the nerve from my tooth. I think I passed out at that point.

I think I was drugged, too, or he could have done something else to me to make me forget what ever happened next. I still don't know what happened to my back molars, but I think he pulled them out for fun! The next thing I remember was being in my soon to be ex-friend's car as he drove me back to my dorm, my mouth stuffed full of this cottony stuff. I never learned the man's name, or that of his assistant, for that matter, but with time and hard work, I did learn one thing:

That man was a psychic, one of those horrible people who use their satanic powers to hurt innocent people like us. He used something called 'suggestion' to make me do what he wanted me to do.

Now I'm just like the rest of you- waiting for the day we will be able to give people like him the punishment they deserve!"

[Cheering in the background]

[Transcript ends.]

+=+:|_8_|:+=+

"We're sorry, Mr. Vanguard, but this does not qualify as self defense." The judge, an old woman, said glaring down at the lawyer from the head of the courtroom. "An attack by one psychic does not justify the attempted murder of any others that Mr. Goodwill may have come across."

"He was only trying to protect himself!" Mr. Vanguard shouted, back up at the woman.

She leaned over the bench, eyes blazing with anger.

"You're defendant was caught on camera- no, _RECORDED_ himself- shooting one of our agents five times in the stomach! Agent Aquato was only fifteen! It's a miracle he survived, let alone that he's made a full recovery! This case will go to court, and I can almost guaranty you that an insanity plea will be rejected. Now, get out of my sight!"

Vanguard slammed shut his briefcase and stormed out of the court room, muttering darkly under his breath.

Raz, who had been watching the proceedings in the gallery, also stood up after the man had left. He _had_ made a full recovery, and he knew he was extremely lucky that none of the bullets had hit anything vital. He turned to Sasha, who had been sitting next to him during the proceedings.

"Do you think he'll actually be convicted?" Raz asked Sasha as they walked out of the courtroom.

"I don't know. I guess it would depend on how many members of the Victims of Psychics Society and their sympathizers are on the jury..."


End file.
